


Be My Muse

by Meloncholor



Series: Arcana Thirst [5]
Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Draw Me Like One of Your French Girls, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Masturbation, Painting, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Public Masturbation, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-04
Updated: 2019-11-04
Packaged: 2021-01-23 03:11:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21313228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meloncholor/pseuds/Meloncholor
Summary: Donovan is lacking inspiration, he asks Julian to assist.
Relationships: Apprentice/Julian Devorak
Series: Arcana Thirst [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1482008
Kudos: 46





	Be My Muse

Light billowed from the arched stain glass windows, settling on the young mage hunched over on a squat stool. He cradled his head in the palm of his hand with his elbow resting on his knee. His heavy eyebrows are scrunched in concentration, staring at a blank canvas propped up in front of him. In his other hand, he held a wide paintbrush that was periodically dripping vivid cerulean on the floor. The tools of his craft were spread out on the tile floor in front of him, hastily scattered from his satchel along with the soon-to-be-wrinkled tarot deck, brushes and paints make a mock prayer circle around his stool for ease of access. His little corner of the library was an artist’s paradise, with the boundless natural light and the wide-open space, but the spirit of creativity did not favor him today. The longer he stared at the off-white void, the more distant he felt from inspired. Capturing the essence of life seemed a lot less than it was cracked up to be.

The insolent magpie that served as the object of his artistic expression leisurely preened on the sill of the window, unaware of the frustration she was causing. Donovan lets out a flustered groan, and her large glassy eyes turned to him. Glass marbles stared down at him with a knowing repugnance. “Oh, don’t give me that.” He grumbles into his palm. “I get to put you in whatever painting I like.” She defiantly puffs her feathers and flitters down to perch on the top of his canvas.

_ “No.”  _ Her tiny voice commands.

“You’re such an awful bird.” Lifting his head, he reaches out his free hand. She bounces into the center of his palm, immediately plopping herself to sit like a dollop of black and blue cream. Bringing her to his face, he plants a kiss on her feathered head.

_ “Sleep?”  _ She questions, ruffling more securely in his hand. 

“You’re also lazy I might add.” He laughs. “Love you, Dizzy.”

_ “Meanie.”  _ She warbles in her usual rebellious fashion.

A loud clang echoed from the front of the library, sending the bird fleeing to another part of the library. Donovan sighed as two other voices joined the sound of the front door. “...He’s in her rather often, he called the lighting...sensual, I believe.” Nadia says idly, followed by Julian’s musical cackle echoing in the hall.

“He would say that wouldn’t he?”

“He sits in the back, below the windows.”

“Right, I appreciate the escort, Nadia.”

“And Julian?”

“Yes?”

“Behave.”

Donovan can hear the smirk wind across his face. “I  _ always _ behave, milady.” There wasn’t a sound after that, save for the clunk of the front door shutting behind her. The rhythmic clack of the doctor’s heeled boots travels down the hall, weaving through high aisles of old texts. Donovan’s personal sect of the library was more of an academic lounge, several velvet adorned chaises and chairs were placed behind him facing the floor-to-ceiling windows. The mage doesn’t stand up, much rather preferring the showmanship of a dramatic reveal, he cuts a sultry gaze over his shoulder when the sound of the boots stop. “There’s my Donny.” Julian strides into the artists’ alcove with his cloak and jacket discarded, leaving him only in a silk shirt. His eyes move up and about, taking in the area’s serenity. “You have a knack for finding odd places to hide away.” He draws his eyes down, to the small puddle that had formed underneath a forgotten paintbrush. Another wry smile graces his features as he points to the coagulating mess. “Canvas not being kind to you I take it?” 

Understandably confused, the artist looks down and reels at what he sees. “Shit!” He throws himself off his stool and cups his hand underneath the brush before shoving it in the vase he had been using for rinsing. “God-fucking-dammit.” He hissed as Julian cackled. “I suppose I’ll have to call the maids...again.” Donovan drops back into his stool with a dejected sigh. “I am not exactly having the best of days.” Julian gives him a pitiful look before walking over to rest his hands on tense shoulders.

“Nothing inspiring you today, my dear?” He coos, rubbing gentle circles into the taut muscles. Donovan shakes his head, letting his eyes drift closed as he relaxes into the other man’s touch. The mage reaches up a hand to rest on Julian’s, and when their skin connects, he’s nearly pummeled by the idea that rushes to him. “Ilya?” He whispers without opening his eyes.

“Yes?” Julian punctuates the statement by pushing a bit harder into the tight muscles. 

He turns around, awing at the multi-colored light dappling in the curls of Julian’s hair. A perfect specimen, to be sure. “How would you like to be my muse for today.” Donovan looks into the stormy gray of his eyes, a glint of mischief in his own. 

“Oh?” Julian’s smirk is fox-like. “And what would that entail?” The smaller man points his thumb to the windowsill. 

“All you have to do is sit and look pretty.”

“Oh, I can  _ definitely _ do that.” Releasing his grip on his shoulders, Julian bounded over to the window, taking up the space that Dizzy was previously occupying. He struck a gaudy but elegant pose, one leg in the air propped up against the side of the window, the other gently folded underneath him. He places his hand underneath his sharp chin, framing his face as the other arm tugged open the front of his shirt. “How’s this?” He giggled, intending not to be serious. When he gets no answer he looks over, and the other man is staring at him unblinking. Trying to hide his flush, Julian flashes an even broader grin. “You’re liking it I hope.” But Donovan was already lost in his own thoughts.

He mutters a soft, ‘don’t move’ before he reaches down to grab another broad brush. Julian flushes red as his partner blots black paint onto the canvas, spreading it with his utensil. “You look lovely.” He whispers, more to himself than anything. And his eyes spark with wonder. The colors of the window compliment well with Julian’s alabaster skin and his shirt reflected the dancing rays just so. The lanky man flusters under the other’s scrutiny, the way his coal-like eyes burned with intent as he scanned every inch of him, committing the image to the canvas in front of him. Julian was reminded with every brushstroke of exactly  _ who _ Donovan was looking at. Bur rather than succumb to his own embarrassment he tries to counteract it with snark. “Donny if you keep looking at me like that I’m going to start thinking that your painting is going to be a little less than saintly.” 

But he doesn’t get an answer, again. Rather, Donovan sits back from the painting, his brows furrowing as he looks at Julian with an inquisitive glare. Eyes rake up and down his form, taking the half-baked comment to heart. The tall man flounders, “Donny I--”

“Take off your shirt, Ilya.” Donovan demands, casting a glance back to the painting.

“Uh...what?” Julian squeaks, his languid pose faltering for a moment.

“Your shirt, take it off.” Donovan repeats, dropping his large brush in the vase of water and picking up one with a more delicate tip. He pulls a red from his pile of paints, inspects it, then tosses it aside.

Julian goes crimson from head to toe in an instant. “Donny I-I um... Don’t think--” He gets another more commanding glare and his mouth snaps shut. Donovan side-eyes him as he moves to sit up, awkwardly shedding the puffy shirt and depositing it on the floor. The mage manages a smirk when Julian returns to his position letting his brush glide across the canvas. His lover’s gaze goes from inquisitive to predatory and Julian couldn’t help the pressure that began to build below his navel. He tried to shift his position to relieve the tension in his pants, but that only got him a disappointed glare, and he froze again, waiting for instruction.

“Hmmm…” After another few minutes, he tapped the butt of his paintbrush against his chin. “Ilya?” He purred, peeking out from the canvas corner. 

“Y-yes?” He replied but didn’t move a muscle.

“Can you remove the pants? I’m afraid they clash with the lighting.” Donovan snides. The doctor spares a glance downward, fully aware of his growing erection. “Is there a problem?” The words are accusatory, but his tone is soft, an invitation to leave.

“No.” He says, the red drifting down his neck and onto his shoulders. He stands up, hands playing at the hem of his pants. Donovan watches with a concealed eagerness, his head resting in his palms as Julian pushes the trousers down to his ankles and steps out of them along with his boots and sock. His thin undergarment saves little to modesty, especially as his cock got harder underneath them.

“Now, back on the window sill, as you were.” He prompts him along with his hand, and Julian eagerly returns back to where he was sitting. 

Silence falls back between them as Donovan returns to work, the gentle scratch of his brush on the canvas the only evidence either of them were there. Julian became more flustered with each passing moment, he  _ knew _ Donovan could see the growing hardness in his underwear, and every spared glance back to him made the doctor squirm. 

“Donny~” Julian whines, ever so slightly bucking his hips. His cock is tenting in his pants and his desperate for attention, even if it’s just a slightly longer glance. Donovan was nearly salivating at the sight. He was flushed from cheeks to chest, lips slightly parted, huffing out small breaths like a beast in heat. Then, in a whisper, Donovan says, “Touch yourself Ilya, I know you want to.” 

With a pleased hum, he complies. He palms his erection, groaning as the pressure is relieved. Donovan is no longer holding his paintbrush, as it lay forgotten in the water vase. His sultry gaze is on the movements of Julian’s hand, and he says nothing as he works himself.

“Oh, Donny…” Julian moans, biting his lip and arching his hips as his hand dips into the waistband of his underwear.

“You’re such a little whore Ilya,” Donovan’s voice is low and he laughs softly as Julian groans at his words. “I’m not even touching you and you’re already dripping from your hard cock.” He sighs. “Is that what’s getting you off Ilya?”

Julian takes full hold of his erection, pumping it with fervor as his lover egged him on. The angry red tip steadily leaked precum that dribbled down his fist and onto the black underwear. “You just love me watching being so filthy, god I bet you want me to have my lips on that big cock of yours…” Donovan growls. Julian’s pace quickens as he approaches climax, keening at the filthy words falling from his lover’s lips. “Are gonna cum for me Ilya? Are you gonna come all over yourself just from me watching you fall apart?” And just like that Julian comes with a yelp and hard jerk of his hips, thick droplets of come spewing out across his chest and abdomen. 

Donovan just looks on with a self-satisfied grin as Julian collects himself, grabbing his paintbrush again. Julian watches as he returns to his work, sparing more glances to the blissed-out doctor as he returns to reality.

“You’re such a tease,” Julian whines when he sees the way Donovan shifts in his seat to hide his own erection. 

“I’m almost done, darling.” He hums. “Then I’m going to need you to suck me off. Sound like a plan?”

Julian shoots upright, his cock nearly springing back to full attention. “Y-yes!”


End file.
